


Teal

by gremlins-came-and-got-me (Scared_Beings_in_the_Dark)



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Dead Claudia Stilinski, Dead Hales, Fall Theme SWR, Grieving, M/M, Major Character Death refers to Sheriff Stilinski, More angst than I was planning, Sheriff Stilinski's Name is John, start of a relationship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-17
Updated: 2017-10-17
Packaged: 2019-01-18 14:13:23
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,460
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12389712
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Scared_Beings_in_the_Dark/pseuds/gremlins-came-and-got-me
Summary: Derek runs a flower shop and always on the first day of autumn, Stiles stops by to buy a bouquet for his mother’s grave. This year, Stiles doesn’t come in. Derek arranges the bouquet anyway and goes out to the cemetery only to find Stiles curled on the graves of both his parents. His dad dead in the line of duty just recent.Frank discussion and consumption of autumn-themed foods commences.





	Teal

**Author's Note:**

> Read the tags. They are fairly comprehensive when it comes to what's in this story. That said, if you think I've forgotten to tag something, please let me know.

* * *

 

All day long the bell above the door dings and never once is it the one face that Derek wants to see.

Today is the first day of autumn, the first day when Derek doesn’t get stink-eyes for his mums, the first day when he can paint his windows with leaves and pumpkins and corn and no one defaces it (that’ll come later, in the week leading up to Halloween and Mischief Night).

And there is no sign of Derek’s favorite customer.

Stiles always gets the same thing every year, always on the first day of fall: a spread of deep purple chrysanthemums with baby’s-breath and a single pink carnation.

Well.

If Stiles isn’t coming in, then Derek will just have to take it to him.

He wraps the arrangement quickly. And then does another, substituting the carnation for a red rose.

He leaves his shop in the capable hands of his long-time associate, V. Boyd, and drives out to the most likely place for Stiles to be on this day: the Beacon Hills Memorial Cemetery.

Derek parks behind Stiles’ powder blue Jeep, checking quickly to make sure he’s not in the vehicle. He isn’t, so Derek heads into the cemetery proper, scanning the rows of headstones for anyone.

The cemetery is empty aside from a few elderly people strolling amongst the graves. Derek nods politely as he winds his way deeper.

He pauses before the statute of St. Michael, bows his head, and whispers the prayer for the dead. Then he kisses his fingertips and presses them to the stone marking the final resting place of his family.

When he looks up, he sees Stiles’ hunched form curled onto a freshly heaped burial site.

Derek hurries toward him, aware that something is very wrong if Stiles is just lying there.

The name on the old gravesite isn’t a surprise. Stiles has spoken, rarely, about his deceased mother. The newer grave is sobering. John Stilinski. Died about two weeks ago. Which would mean his funeral was last week. Has Stiles been out here the whole time?

Derek doesn’t want to intrude—he still remembers running away from his foster home after his family died in a house fire. He’d been in a bad place for a long time, and it was only the fact that his lawyer had dug up his grandmother’s flower shop that he’d pulled his head off the ground and actually started working through his grief. Now, he has three employees and he sort of flirts with Stiles when he comes in (not when he’s getting the flowers for his mother).

Stiles is asleep, face down in the dirt. Derek can see the sunburn on Stiles’ skin.

This is not good.

Derek kneels next to him, setting the bouquets on Claudia’s grave while he shakes Stiles’ shoulder.

Stiles wakes all at once, swinging an open palm against Derek’s face.

The pain makes Derek recoil and let out a grunt while Stiles blinks at him.

“Derek?”

“Yeah?”

“What are you doing here?”

Derek settles more firmly onto his haunches, reaching again for Stiles and helping him sit up. “I missed you,” he says simply. “I brought flowers for you.”

Stiles takes the bouquet Derek wrapped for his mother and sets it in the urn closer to her name on the double headstone. Derek hands him the other one.

“I’m sorry,” he says, quietly. “I didn’t know your father was gone.”

“It was recent,” Stiles says, dropping the flowers into the urn again and moving it so that it is centered between his parents’ names. “And it’s not like we talked about a whole lot. I mean, I stopped in your shop, what, about once a month?”

“Something like that.”

“And I only ever bought flowers for my mom. How were you supposed to know about my dad?”

Derek sighs softly. “Do you want to meet some people?” At Stiles’ questioning look, he stands up, offering a hand. Once Stiles is up, he leads him back through the cemetery to St. Michael. “Stiles, these are my family. Family, Stiles.”

Stiles stares wide-eyed at the plaque denoting the names of the twelve Hales who died almost ten years ago now.

“It gets easier to breathe,” Derek says, “and maybe the pain isn’t as visceral as often, but it never leaves.”

“How can it?” Stiles asks. “How can you?”

“One breath at a time,” Derek says. He runs his fingers over the stone, breathing deeply with each name. And when he turns to Stiles, he can barely see for the tears in his eyes. “One breath at a time.”

Stiles pulls him into a tight hug that lasts for a long time. Stiles’ shoulder is wet and Derek’s shirt might as well be a handkerchief for how much snot and tears it absorbed.

By the time they break apart, the sun is going down, and while both of them are red-eyed and stuffy-nosed, Derek feels a little lighter. Stiles must too from the way he leans in and presses a chaste kiss to the corner of Derek’s mouth.

“Thank you,” he whispers as he steps back. “I…I really needed that.”

“Come on,” Derek urges, linking their hands together. He leads Stiles back to his vehicle. They’ll come back tomorrow for Stiles’ Jeep. “You need something warm. And I know the perfect place.”

Stiles graces him with a smile and his trust and soon they pull up to the New-Moon Café.

Derek is always early with his fall decorations, but he’s in step with the staff here. There are plastic leaves pasted on all the windows and ornamental gourds piled on each table. Stiles looks around, eyeing everything with an air of apprehensive appreciation.

“The coffee is good and the food better,” Derek tells him, leading him to a booth tucked into an obscure corner. “Ask about the specials, they’re always the right thing.”

“I just might do that,” Stiles agrees easily. He pokes at the miniature pumpkin gourd. “So, coffee? Anything pumpkin spiced?”

Derek grins at him. “Only if you want some.” Stiles shakes his head, but when the server stops by, he orders two large pumpkin coffees.

The special is chili with bread to dip, and they again order the same thing.

Converstaion flows stiltedly around slurps and scraping spoons. They opt for dessert when it’s offered.

“Is this a date?” Stiles bursts out in the middle of a hot chocolate brownie. Derek pauses with a bite of apple pie almost to his lips.

He carefully puts it in his mouth and chews for a solid minute. Stiles is vibrating by the time Derek sets his fork down and wipes his mouth.

“No,” he finally says. “This isn’t a date.” Stiles face falls slightly, and Derek adds, “It’s a ‘getting to know you’ dinner.”

“I’d say we know each other pretty well after that hearty cry.”

Derek shakes his head. “We know each other, but we don’t _really_ know each other. My favorite color is the sky when it’s about to rain, you know, the slate gray with other grays mixed in.”

“Oh,” Stiles says. “Mine is blue, like my Jeep. My dad’s was—”

And just like that, Stiles tears up. Derek reaches across the table and grips his hand. “It’s okay. It’s okay to remember and to have a moment where you are truly happy. And someday it won’t rip your heart out with the very thought of what reminds you.”

“And you? Are you at that point?” Stiles demands.

Derek picks up his fork and stabs his pie. “My mom’s favorite color was purple,” he says instead.

Stiles looks at him, studying him for a long moment before he switches their dessert plates and steals Derek’s pie.

Around a bite of crust, he mumbles, “My dad’s favorite color was teal.”

After it all, when Derek drops him at his apartment, a few blocks north from Derek’s flower shop, Stiles shuffles his feet awkwardly and refuses to look up.

“So,” Derek says gently, “I had a nice time at dinner.”

“Do you make it a habit of looking for your customers in graveyards?” Stiles bursts out.

“No.”

“So, I’m special?”

Derek allows a half smile to curve his lips. “Yes, Stiles, you are special.”

“The thing is, I don’t know if I’m allowed to like you or date you. I mean, my dad just died. What’s the standard procedure for this?”

“I think the standard procedure falls to you. How do you feel? Do you want this? Would you rather I left you alone?”

Stiles’ head shoots up and his eyes pinpoint Derek’s. “I’ve been alone for longer than my father’s been dead. I’m tired of being alone.”

Taking Stiles’ hand again feels right in this moment.

~ Fin ~

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**Author's Note:**

> Also posted at [ my Tumblr](http://1989dreamer.tumblr.com/post/166493370115/teal-teen-wolf-tv-ficlet).


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